Read Online Daughter of Destiny by Louise M. Gouge - Free Book Online

you like it or not.”
    She smiled and glanced toward the shore. “They might have
something to say about that.”
    Swain followed her gaze to see boats being launched from
the beach. He stiffened. “Mr. Turner, break out the muskets.”
    “No.” Leah gripped his arm. “They will not harm us. Believe
me.”
    “I cannot risk the lives of people on this ship by
depending upon your childhood memories. Now please go below. If I can determine
that these are reasonable, trustworthy people, I will call for you.” He strode
across the deck then turned back. “Will you obey me, madam?”
    Leah glared at him, surprised at her own mettle. She looked
over her shoulder at the longboats skimming over the water toward the ship.
Without another thought, she grabbed the nearby ratline, scrambled up on the
railing, pulled off her bonnet, and waved it furiously at the approaching
islanders. Her red hair loosened and blew in the wind, and she felt giddy with
joy.
    “Iaorana! Iaorana!” she called. “Hello, hello!”
    The echoing cries of the islanders greeted her. “Iaorana! Iaorana!”
    “Leah, are you mad?” Swain gripped her by the waist and
pulled her down.
    “Let go of me.” She twisted out of his grasp.
    “Captain,” the third mate called from aloft. “Look. They
seem friendly.”
    Swain and Leah rushed to the railing to see the islanders
waving flowers, holding up branches of breadfruit, and chanting in obvious joy.
    “Pede, Pede, Pede,” called the bare-skinned men and women.
    “What are they saying?” Swain accepted a musket from the
first mate.
    Leah frowned. She only recalled a few words of Fénuan, and
“pede” was not one of them. “It must be some sort of greeting.”
    Soon the islanders swarmed over the railing and threw themselves
on the deck before Leah. “Pede, Pede.” Their chant had become reverential, and
they did not look at her face.
    “What on earth. . .?” Swain scratched his head and stared
at the prostrated men and women with a frown.
    Leah noticed some of the sailors were ogling the half-clad
women. By the quarterdeck stairs, Reverend Hillerman held one hand over
Daniel’s eyes while Gladys fanned herself.
    “What are they doing?” Swain moved close to Leah, but when
he touched her shoulder, one of the men cried, “Unauwee, unauwee,” and sternly motioned
him away. Swain snorted his disgust. “If he thinks. . .”
    “Shh. Please, Captain.” Leah stepped away from him. A story
her mother had told of Leah’s birth burst into her memory, and she understood
exactly what these people meant by their obeisance. But she would not tell
Swain. Instead, she stretched out both arms, palms down, and said, “Iaorana.” She placed her
right hand over her heart then drew it away from her body in a sweeping motion
over the stunned islanders, with her palm now upturned in an inclusive gesture.
    “Ahhh,” they hummed, almost as one, and bowed once again.
Then they stood and made signs to invite Leah to disembark.
    “You see, they remember me.” She gave him a bright smile.
“Now, will you please see that my things are brought ashore?”
    He started to reach for her arm, but one burly islander
growled and stepped forward with words clearly meant to threaten.
    Leah lifted her hand and shook her head. “No.” She smiled
again at Swain and touched his arm to demonstrate his significance. The man
stepped back with a bow.
    “Leah, I beg you, don’t do this. Come with us. With me.”
    “Captain, you have my answer. I have returned home, and
this is where I shall stay.”
    ***
     
    Jonah put all his weight into drawing the oar through the
water, lifting it, and dipping in again in rhythm with the other rowers. Seated
in the whaleboat beside a grizzled old whaler, he resolved not to complain about
his screaming muscles. If this ancient fellow could handle the task, Jonah
could too, for he had a compelling reason to succeed.
    Over three months before, he had been plucked from the
ocean by a